[Skell]
Rarely does anyone look absolute power in the face.
It was like terminal illness, or a lightning bolt from the clouds. You knew they existed. Knew that they struck. But never up close. Not 'til now. Now… I looked the second highest power in the nation right in its old mug.
Half of it, at least.
Aged fingers clung to a platinum scepter, its likeness perfectly reflected in her radiant plate of the same exalted color. Three metallic faces adorned her: the lion on one shoulder, an eagle on the other, and both - a gryphon - upon her hooked face.
A mask. One covering half the High Judge's features, carved with cutting precision to depict the leonine bird-of-prey's severe visage. Somehow it was less unsettling than the coexisting human side. Weathered years marked this one. Airs of superiority and orderly demeanor lifted most wrinkles, though, even if she might've been as old as Cynthine. Maybe older. That said, she couldn't have been less like the glamour mage.
Silver eyes shot past sheets of white hair to freeze our group. "Judge Lucival…" she floated to the second floor's crystalline railing. "I expected Karthwyn's attendance and your absence. Not the inverse."
"High Judge Obéline." The Lionheart cleared his throat before bowing - a sign for us to follow his lead. We all leaned low to the reflective floor. After seeing myself in it, I rose back up with distaste in my mouth.
"Then we've both been equally blindsided," Lucival lifted his chin. "Meeting our newest generation of Squires was my sole intention before returning to the Deathbed. Yet Karthwyn seemed to be undergoing… difficulties regarding his supervision of the Sacred Ordeals. Difficulties I wish to discuss with you at a later juncture."
"You deemed yourself better suited to the task?" she let the question hang. "Very well. We shall breach this matter you speak of when time permits. The present proceedings, however, are not to wait."
Lifting her scepter, Obéline clicked it against the floor twice. The noise echoed easily through the crystal hall, but for what purpose, I didn't know. 'Til he showed up.
An upstairs door creaked open. "Désolé, High Judge Obéline!" a lanky, pink-haired man stepped into view, hastily adjusting a slightly-too-big crown. "These true-to-life statues of past heroes never cease to amaze. I seem to have gotten lost in-
"Downstairs," interrupted Obéline, already halfway down the curved steps herself, silver and gold-trimmed cape gliding behind. "We instate the applicants there."
"Yes, of course!" King Vancaster hurried to follow the High Judge with a noticeable limp, wine-red robes lagging lazily behind him. His eyes wandered over us as he descended, tripping over Lucival.
Th-this is Lumerit's King? Are we sure the real King didn't just send a servant in regal robes because he couldn't be bothered?
Sure, the man came in a kingly casing. Thick furs cradled his shoulders, ruby and tourmaline rings sparkled on his fingers, and a genuinely priceless crown leaned atop his cropped hair. But under it all was a fairly unimposing man. Barely a man, really - he couldn't have been a day over twenty.
"Down the hall," the High Judge gestured with her scepter, reaching the bottom of the staircase and passing our group without a glance. Underneath and beyond the staircase was a corridor lit by golden chandeliers and lined in side rooms, all of which she moved past at a surprisingly brisk pace.
As we started to tail her, the King reached us. Or more accurately, the Lionheart. "Bonjour, Lucival!" his excited smile creased a well-groomed goatee as he sincerely shook the Templar's hand. "I hardly expected a surprise visit from the Golden Prodigy. I'd almost forgotten his face."
Lucival chuckled as he walked. "It has been some time since I set foot in your capital, Jaspien. Four months by my estimate."
"Four months too long, by mine. But it appears you've finally come upon a moment of respite. Pray tell, how long shall the Lionheart stand guard in sublime Selem? The masses will be ecstatic at your return. I myself would be overjoyed to return to our fireside conversations - along with two warm cups of milk tea."
Lucival's smile leveled. "Staying… won't be possible. My efforts have only just afforded me this day of downtime. Come dawn, I'll be back to my duties. Indefinitely."
"…I see." The King's gaze dropped, voice verging on inaudible. "Have the undead at our borders truly grown so fierce?"
Despite the men's moods, the sight before us was as unreal as the crystal corridor we cut through. Lumerit's King. High Judge of the Order. And the Lionheart. You couldn't squeeze more clout into one room. I was pretty awed, but most our group was thoroughly entranced.
"Although," Lucival scratched his temple, quickly shifting subjects, "I believe that while we have a moment, you should introduce yourself to our newest Templars. You are their King; I'm sure they're eager to greet more than the back of your crown."
The King's eyebrows shot up, crinkling an otherwise porcelain-smooth face. "You're right! I've become a touch impetuous upon seeing your face, dear friend!" He turned to us as we walked. "And, soon-to-be-Templars, I ask your pardon; I'm quite accustomed to others introducing themselves to me, or being introduced to others via stewards, but I suppose these are special circumstances. I am," he pressed ringed fingers to his chest, "as you all surely know, the sole monarch of our illustrious nation: His Highness King Jaspien the Sixth, of great Lumerit, Brilliant Sun of the Royal Dawn, and champion of pen, blade, and spoken wor-"
"Speaking of words," Lucival cut in, "perhaps that's enough for a… brief introduction. Time is short." His metallic finger pointed to a crystalline door at the hallway's approaching end.
"Right," noted the King. "'Tis a shame, Templars. I'd enjoy a more thorough dialogue, but that must wait for another day. Tradition and duty take precedence."
"As they always do," stated the High Judge as she stopped at the great door.
Etched into its surface was a massive illustration of the Templar insignia. Some sort of enchantment was clearly in place here, as the door receded into the walls with just the woman's presence.
Dazzled eyes peered past the opening into a relatively subdued chamber - lined with blue pillars and white dais that rose to an empty crystal throne. Empty, 'til the High Judge took her seat, the lion and eagle on her armor aligning perfectly with those constructed into the the throne's "shoulders". Lucival and Jaspien silently positioned at her right and left respectively. Leaving us at the room's other end.
"Your initiation begins here." Obéline sat tall. For an old lady with such a large throne, she filled it effortlessly. "You all shall come before me, and kneel, reciting the oaths I name word-for-word. Understand these are no mere declarations. These oaths are iron. Break even one, and-"
Invisible weight compressed the room. The High Judge stabbed a crooked finger toward our group. "That one," her eyes pinned onto a suddenly tense Hyland. "I've seen him before. In this very same circumstance, as a matter of fact."
"Truly?" questioned Lucival.
All the room's blue crystal could've been ice for as chilly as Hyland became. "Wh-whatever do you mean, High-"
"You'd do well not to play the fool with me. Speak your name."
"My name?" the ex-Templar struggled to collect himself, "B-but wh-"
"That was an order," stated the High Judge. "I will not ask again."
"…Hyland. Hyland Peredur," he bowed stiffly.
Recognition wasn't visible in Lucival's eyes. Or the King's. But it was in Obéline's. "You're the boy who caused me a great deal of trouble not too long ago."
Surprise hit my face at the same time it hit Hyland's. If anyone knew what she was talking about, it was us.
"The Belza Hill incident," she said, "brought untold headaches to the Order. Such a public display isn't easily forgotten. Word spreads, and prestige is difficult to win back once lost."
Her ire made perfect sense. Hyland beat an innocent civilian in broad daylight, dragged him unconscious through the streets, arrested him, then tried to murder him when he felt bureaucracy got in the way of what he wanted: that same innocent's immediate execution. You'd be hard-pressed to call someone like that one of Lumerit's beloved protectors.
But beyond that, his victim stood in the very same room. The Order couldn't have known that part - thanks to Gervais and Antonia - which saved me from dealing with somewhere between ten and ten-thousand complications. I wouldn't be letting that little secret slip, either. Judging by Hyland's bone-white face, we were on the same page.
"High Judge," concern downturned Lucival's eyes, "I believe it best if we avoid discussing such matters in front of his peers."
"The boy will survive a little embarrassment," her gaze slashed to the gold-haired man. "It is far less than what he wrought upon our Order. In my youth, such stunts incurred permanent disbarment, if not a headrest under the guillotine. He should consider himself blessed to merely be stripped of rank, with allowance to rebuild his career." The woman's voice turned wintery. "Were I in your shoes, Squire Hyland, I would not squander this opportunity."
"Y-yes, I'll make certain I won't." Hyland bowed again, looking as if he hadn't breathed in a minute.
Obéline clicked her scepter against the floor. "Let us away with further diversions; the initiation begins now. Applicants, come forward and kneel. It is time to become Templars."
I probably struggled to move on as much as Hyland, but we and the other applicants pressed forward. Our loose group gradually found a firmer formation as we stopped before the raised crystal throne. Then we knelt in unison. All our time, effort, and training… it all led to this critical moment.
"Recite my words," said the High Judge, flanked by the King's watchful eyes and the Lionheart's inspiring aura. "From this moment forth, I am more than a citizen of Lumerit, and I am more than a mere warrior. For I am a Templar."
We repeated her words. Each and every one of us.
Obéline continued. "Yet a Templar is nothing without the orders behind them, the laws they follow, and most importantly, the oaths they strive to fulfill. It is these oaths that I shall now solemnly swear, and forever uphold."
Again, we repeated her. After that, I swore a great many things:
To always protect the meek and innocent.
To remain devoted to my nation, my Order, and my people.
To only speak the truth. Never falsehoods.
To serve with the wisdom of an eagle and the courage of a lion.
To never divulge information to those lacking the authority to know.
To never raise a blade against my fellow Templar, barring the most extreme of circumstances.
And… to annihilate any undead I encounter. Among many, many other oaths.
Some vows I agreed with. Others, I wouldn't lose the sleep I never had over breaking. But to me, they were all just words. A means to an end. I wanted what lied behind those words - the knowledge of resurrection. And when the High Judge finally finished, and spoke the words that truly mattered, those I'd been waiting so long to hear…
I knew I was one step closer.
"Henceforth, you are Squires - first rank of the Templar Order. Rise, holy warriors, proud and strong."
Sacred Ordeals Arc - End